


Calm Down

by CCAirBorn



Series: Greetings from the Outlands [3]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Apex Games, Bleeding, F/F, Fights, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures, Mention of alcohol, More - Freeform, Other, Vomiting, in game logic, naked in a tub, nose bleed, vauge bloodhound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-03-08 06:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18889330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCAirBorn/pseuds/CCAirBorn
Summary: Bloodhound and Wraith are great partners, unstoppable on the field.But when a competitor steps up to fill The Hunter's attention wraith gets a little hostile.She doesn't know they all just want the puppy to be safe.Maybe she can fill her own attention with someone else





	1. Hot one

“Hound, please calm down,” Wraith said over the deafening punching against knocked-down enemies, the gloved fists would hit everyone to their grave or until a death-box spawned. The teammates of the punching bags must have abandoned ship already, the only explanation to why they were still crawling alive. 

“I need--” Bloodhound huffed through their mask and clenched up for another heave. “--their death-box.” 

“Yeah, that's not the reason you're punching that guy like that.” 

Their squad and knocked-down enemies were the only ones left on the soaring supply ship, what remained from the massacre which had occurred a few minutes earlier. Their last party member scouted the area for more people in need of a clean-up. Finishers were performed to kill them cleaner and without wasting any bullets. Everyone performed finishers except The Tracker. Ever since the landing, They have been punching people left and right, refusing to use the gun holstered on Their back. 

“Come on, why are you so moody?”

“I saw him and he got killed right before my eyes.” Bloodhound finally murdered the person Their attention was fixed on, a right hook straight to the face to free them from their misery thus summoning a death-box. 

“Who?”

“Him.” 

There was only one person Bloodhound could be referring to but there was no way that person would be landing onto the ship. Wraith barely knew the guy next to whatever small information she had gathered from conversations with The Tracker. If that guy was the Jumpmaster, they would not have crossed roads until the top five teams remained. 

“Are you sure it was him? It could have been someone who looked similar, I mean why would he be here of all places.”

Wraith eyed Their clenched fist flicking off blood, the color painted between fingers and wiped on Their pants. The gas mask was as blank as a slate but there was something different with the hunched shoulders looting the box, something different from earlier during transport. Bloodhound could almost be categorized as excited back then, glancing from side to side around the transport plane to observe the other Legends. Each person was strapped, weaponless, armorless and defenseless - unable to move from their seat until the destination was reached. The Tracker usually waited patiently for the doors to open, placing Their faith in the nature gods but for once They were restless. Bloodhound’s knee was bouncing to no end and Their seating would keep shifting back and forth, uncomfortable with the leather surrounding Them. 

“When were the doors opening again?” The belt pulled at Their clothes to push Them back into the seat. 

“Do you need the W that badly? Why are you rushing?” 

“I need to see him. Now. I need to get to him immediately before it is too late.” 

“Just pray he doesn’t die before you get to him, then.” 

The Tracker took the advice and prayed with fingers folded against Their mask, whatever they told the heavens seemed to calm Them down. It did not stop Wraith from hearing muffled whispers as everyone was released, their seatbelts automatically unclipping and the rear door slowly sliding open. The view of Kings Canyon came into view below as people held onto the ceiling straps to avoid tumbling. 

“I need to see him… I need to see him.” 

The Hunter repeated the single thought like a broken faucet, dripping down the drain and drowning in the crowd. A bloodbath broke out on the dropship, hawking the battlefield below and all wraith heard was the devastated howling of wolves from inside moments before the battle had ended.

“There.” 

The Tracker walked over and pointed at a death-box outside, resting on the catwalk surrounding the first floor. The lid happily displayed the name and picture of whoever it belonged to. The screen shuffled an animation between badges and achievements the person had on their player profile, this way sponsors and patrons at home could easily read the names and decide who was worth investing in for future Apex Games. 

“There he is.” She repeated. 

The box said “Mirage” with bold letters, it displayed his headshot with a creeping smirk lurking in the corner of his mouth. Bloodhound crouched down and drew fingers over the letters to dust away debris from the surface. The Hunter sighed heavy with a head hung low over the box, not even bothering to check its content. Most likely containing nothing or a simple Mozambique. The dragging wind and rumbling from the dropship filled the air nicely. 

“I wanted to see him…” 

“And you did-- just not on the ground.” 

How Bloodhound had managed to spot Mirage all the way in the back of the transport and in the air while dropping was spectacular, it shows how powerful the mighty predator could be when Their abilities were focused. It was the first time Wraith had seen The Hunter this focused yet blinded by emotions rather than a fixed kill. Like spotting a hook stuck in a fish swimming in the pond across the country, Wraith could barely keep track of her own squadmates sometimes. 

The mighty Hunter spoke fondly of Mirage, quite little but she had an idea of what this meeting could have meant for Them. The way Bloodhound would soften up and become more touchy when The Trickster came to mind. Wraith almost thought something inside The Hunter had been broken the first time she was hugged. Instead of the usual threats whispered in her ear by enemies she was thanked for a pleasant conversation and venting, leaving her with a beaming smile and fuzzy sparkle in her stomach. 

The Tracker placed their forehead on the box, resting for a short moment before it turned into glitter-like dust and disappearing from the arena.

“You will meet him next season, Hound.” She gently stroked the back of Their jacket to ruffle their feathers alive.

“Yeah… next season.”

“If we win you can wave at him from the victory podium, he might still be back in the Colosseum. Why don't you let him know you spotted him.”

Bloodhound turned to face Wraith and cupped her face. A gentle touch which smelled like sand and coagulated blood. 

“What would I do without you, elskan (dear).”

“Probably cry.”

With precise planning and careful relocation, Bloodhound’s squad made it to TOP TWO. Every drone-camera flew above them, invisible to the naked eye yet The Hunter could hear them buzz around just fine. The next zone had locked in its final position with no enemies in sight. Wraith scouted The Zone for movement and quickly pointed out the remaining Respawn Beacon which was unused. Bloodhound called for nature’s strength and bolted towards the position, sniffing off the heat signals bursting off every surface the remaining prey had touched. 

Wraith managed to spray a rain of Heavy bullets into the last Legend to triggered the announcer and her victory chime. Confetti and music filled Kings Canyon whilst The Champions were breathless. They had no strength left to celebrate and found satisfaction with a thumbs-up to each other. Their exhausted downtime came to an end when a helicopter turned up to transport them back to the Colosseum. They had arrived there earlier that morning to gear up and fly into the battle island. The TV mounted on the wall separating the cockpit and The Champions displayed what the viewers were seeing. Highlights from the match, MVP’s, history of kill leaders and what happened to the previous Champion. There was a section talking about weapon statistic before cutting to a shot of The Apex Champions landing in the middle of the Colosseum. One of the biggest sports stadium in the country was filled up with spectators and previous players alike. Every visible screen showed Wraith, Bloodhound and their last squad member stepping out of the helicopter to wave at the crowd. Several drones flew around the stadium to cut to different angles of The Champions as fans cheered or enemies booed under the dance of virtual firework. 

Wraith felt the jab of an elbow in her side as she waved, har raised arm leaving her defenseless. She noticed Bloodhound looking at the crowd on the west side of the tribune before even reaching the stage. There was nothing special about it until she double checked with her Hunter. A single finger was pointed at a glass spectator box meant for other Apex Legends which lead into the changing room in the back. She saw Mirage staring at the screens, clapping like the everyone else. 

“Any words, Wraith?” 

A beautiful lady dressed in red hovered a microphone in front of The Skirmisher on stage. She made the mistake of standing in the middle and was blinded by flashing lights and surrounded by levitating cameras. She could feel the hands of the paparazzi already clawing at her when they got outside. 

“Only a few.” 

She draped the messy hair on her forehead back and slid into her “picture perfect” smile. Shooting at people all day was not the only skill an Apex Legend should have but the ability to win over the crowd and patrons too. Their bank accounts could never be too full. She filled the speakers with cheesy words of sportsmanship and applied a small dose of threat to encourage more players to apply or keep the viewers excited. The Apex bosses liked that a lot. Wraith then looked back at the Spectator-box, glaring at the player in a yellow jumpsuit. 

“A special man in a special attire slipped through our hands today but I saw him. If only I was the one to put a bullet in his head.” 

She glanced over at Bloodhound with no protesting motions. They stood like a pole with arms wrapped behind Their back. 

“I think seeing him today wasn’t enough-- fighting on the field wasn’t enough. I demand a rematch which will end in blood. You know who you are, you know what I look like. Come and find me.”

The crowd cheered once more in union and the Squad was lead to the interviewing room. They were invited to an after-party along with shelter as part of their Apex prize. There was this trend where Champions would often be targeted by hitmen or assassinated, grudges for losing or hatred in general. Their third squad-mate was invited to stay at the hidden location only for Champion Legends, a compound secret to the rest of the world until the next Apex season was announced. They declined the offer even though it was their first time as a Champion. Wraith and Bloodhound had already found their footing at the compound. Before their first victory, there was never really a fixed address to their name. While being too dangerous to stay in one spot, they did not possess a lot of personal belongings or have anyone to come home to. Knowing there was a place to return to for once, a place where they could safely rest their head, was a peace of mind. Wraith attended the after party for some easy alcohol and free food but did not know where The Hunter would be going. 

“I’ll see you back at the compound?” 

“Yes, I have some matter to clean up first.”

“Want me to bring you anything, Pupper?” 

“Only the warmth and welcome of your heart.”

“Ew.” 

They shared a laugh and bid each other farewell before the media could chain The Hunter down with pestering interviews. Bloodhound was not one for the spotlight, money or the thrill, it was difficult to pinpoint why They even played in the games at all. The time Wraith had spent together with The Hunter served no clue to Their past, then again the two never spoke about the past in general. They were accidental enemies, becoming accidental friends and now they could hardly manage without thinking about one another. They had promised their heads as trophies only to each other, a promise they would keep to the very end. Wraith did not know if their meeting was a curse or a blessing, she still remembers the knife pressed against exposed skin under the helmet. The way the blood would pool against her blade and how she was unable to remove her crosshair away from Them. 

Wraith had survived another day in the spotlight without being assassinated. If poison was the one to kick her bucket then she would have accepted it while dancing to epileptic light. Some of the Apex personal was guarding the party and carefully arranged transportation for Wraith when she stumbled up to them. Tipsy but ready for a beating she was flown home. Every piece of clothing was peeled off, article by article as she headed for the common kitchen. Dancing in a club again had ached forgotten muscles and made her incredibly thirsty. The sole mission on her mind was to chuck the remaining juice from the fridge down her windpipe, only to gag a coughing fit moments after. The alcohol made snow-like pattern appear around her vision and her body was halfway unresponsive. Her skin flushed against the air-conditioned breeze traveling through the building. 

“Congratulations today.” A rough voice slurped around a microwave-safe mug as she threw the empty juice jug into the dishwasher. 

Wraith wiped the juice residue on her arm and hastily stared at the shadow. Bangalore looked like a more acceptable mess than Wraith did. Her hair no longer straight or in a do of curls, her uniform somehow cute pajamas and feet tucked into soft slippers. There was this burning urge to touch the fur-like fabric flopping against the kitchen tiles. Spacing out and losing focus to find the right words made Wraith realize she stood in nothing but her underwear. Minimal was done about the matter as she straightened her back tall and proud, somewhat naked was better than to be seen in civilian clothing by other Legends. Now that would be embarrassing. 

“Thank you.” 

“Are you going to clean that up?”

The Soldier nudged towards the trail stained with party leftovers leading from the entrance of the common room. It littered the road she had walked and blocked the corridor down to the washrooms. 

“...No.”

“In that case.” 

The taller lady slid her Multi Smart Tool out of her pocket, MST or MIST, the one distributed by Apex to every active player. It was the same device Legends used to upload their teammates to the Respawn Beacon, boost their ultimate with excallerators or check the map and GPS. A multi-tool with many functions like a camera. The same camera which lit up between them, indicating it was being used. 

“Don’t you dare!” 

Wraith lunged at The Soldier in an attempt to swat the MIST away and Bangalore reacted appropriately. She pulled The MIST out of reach and chuckled when it was sloppily grasped at. Bangalore seemed to have the time of her life balancing the content of her mug and dancing around The Champion. She was almost used as a jungle gym to get to the device.

“I will delete the picture--”

“YOU BETTER!--” 

“--If you calm down and clean up your shit.” 

Wraith cocked an eye with a death grasp around The Soldier, the only thing keeping her from wobbling over to brawl with the floor. The offer of trade was tempting but not enough to hit status quota. A sweet bell rang under all the shots and cocktails in her bloodstream.

“And if I refuse?”

An arm wrapped itself around her, forearm resting on the lower of her back in a louse lock. The pajamas rubbed softly against her skin, swaying back and forth with each movement. Bangalore smirked downwards and raised a brow with grace. Warm porcelain was pressed against her naked thigh end held in place. 

“I will pour this coffee down your panties right here and now.”

Having coffee and third-degree burns dripping down Wraith’s legs, leaving wet footprints everywhere did not seem like a pleasant experience. Wraith parted her lips to protest but felt the heated mug against her grow to a burning and decided to pop into the void. She disappeared from The Soldier’s arms and reappeared seconds later to pick up her clothes. They reeked like death once they were a pile in her arms. Glancing over her shoulder Wraith discovered the screen of the MIST in view, DELETE being hit in the bottom of the touch screen. A bullet was dodged today but Wraith could not shake the feeling of defeat. A victory smile kissed the rim of the coffee mug to inhaled a slurp, something about it made The Champion instinctively reach for the gun usually on her hip. She grasped air and was satisfied with flicking a tongue out instead. On her way to her sleeping quarter, the sound of a snort and a coughing fit filled the space behind her.


	2. Abused yo-yo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bloodhound came home.

The night was going to be a short one when Wraith woke up tomorrow with a throbbing crater in her head. The other Legends would glance in her direction and talk about the match when all she wanted was fried eggs and rice. The wishful morning never arrived when the abrupt notification bell on her MIST shook her awake. A string of blurry message-bubbles filled the locked screen and lit up the room. The headache she had saved for later performed a hit-and-run on the back of her head as she adjusted her eyes.

#### HOUNDY<3

Wraith,  
Elskan.  
I need your help.  
I'm down E16 on north side, 51° 28′ 38″   


Howo what  


I need you to help me smuggle something.  


hound its like five AM wth  
you better be dying or im leavin your ass  
a tunnel or somethign?.,?  


Yes, preferably.   


Wraith groaned her lungs dry and threw the comfortable blanket aside. Hopping down from the mattress to land on her feet triggered the lights to simmer awake. The small bedroom was spacious enough for one person, the standard package which every previous Champion was offered. An open floor with a desk resting in the corner, a queen-sized bed carved into the wall shy a meter above the ground and drawers of belongings under there. It was cozy and to her liking. From one of the drawers, Wraith pulled out an attire which would protect her from the desert. The coordinates sent by BloodHound was copied into her GPS and she faded into the night. A portal was punched into time and space as she ran towards her marker on the map. Shadows of herself fading in and out of the void was scattered across her vision, no voices whispering in her ear so far. All of her other selves still alive and well in this area. 

When the tunnel connected with the entrance it dropped her outside an abandoned building next to an oasis. The water had long ago gone murky but the vegetation was still sprouting out of the sand. It had been a while since Wraith used her tunnel abilities outside the Apex Games but she does not remember it leaving shivers down her spine upon exit. It could have been the cold air howling between the rust and the shattered windows calling for help, whimpering in agony, staring into Wraith with a shadow too long for comfort. The architecture was similar to the buildings in Kings Canyon, just in an awful condition. She did not mind it, however, not nearly as bad as the rundowns she had spent some nights in. Back in the days, she was lucky to keep out of the acid rain.

A faint smell of gasoline filled her nostrils and lead Wraith around the building where she discovered the remains of a broken motorcycle. Bullet trails and holes littered the carbon fiber, its headlights pointing towards the building. Sand had been disturbed and kicked around, unfortunately covering some of the patches of grass peeking around the foundation. With chapped lips clamped together, Wraith drew in air and riled up for a whistle to mimic a passing bird. A few tweets later her lungs were deflated and she was met with the cawing of crows above her. Wraith smiled widely and climbed up the building, crawling past the broken window remains on the second floor.

Bloodhound lied sprawled out on the ground, head resting in the lap of an unknown figure which almost lost its face had The Hunter not greeted her so calmly. She did not recognize Mirage at first but accepted the half-hearted smile and wave to put her dagger away. His face was decorated with bruises and micro cuts, barely visible in the defused moonlight coming through the hole in the ceiling. They were in actuality both covered in dried blood, dust, and dirt. It stained their clothes like freckles or tie-dye. Bloodhound was not moving but she could hear Their heavy breathing ventilated through the mask, one of the goggles cracked at the seem. 

“What the fuck.” 

Wraith hastily rushed to get Bloodhound on Their feet and Mirage automatically assisting her side. She was hooked under the other arm to lead The Hunter down the stairs, halfway carrying - halfway handing her partner over to a stranger like a relay baton. She insisted she could carry the body into the portal on her own and suggested Mirage went through last. Portaling for the first time might set him off and she did not need him all up on Bloodhound right now. Once they had made it to the other side Wraith B-lined to one of the many bathrooms. There were a shower and a bathtub per room, three rooms in total with all the necessary supplies inside. Mirage helped her haul the wounded Legend into the bathtub as ordered before she wiped sweat away from her forehead. 

“Are you okay?”

She pulled her sleeves over the elbows and looked the Trickster up and down, now in better lighting.

“Ugh, I think so. Tinsy shaken, like I can't stop and stuff and my fig-- fink-- hands can't keep still--”

“I mean, any major injuries?” 

The man patted himself over as if he was looking for his missing keys in pockets which were not there. He did half of a twirl as one last check before glancing at Bloodhound Themself. 

“Yes, I think so but--”

Wraith had already made her way to the large cabinet along the wall. She threw a MEDKIT at The Trickster and pointed at the door. 

“There's a bathroom down the hall, rubbing alcohol is in the box. Now go.”

“What about--”

“If you want me to fix Them, you need to go. I can't have you here.”

He hesitated and gave Bloodhound one last look before hanging his head warily out the door and down the mentioned hall. He immediately turned the other direction when wraith called out “Wrong way”. People were still sleeping at this hour, she hoped, so there would not be any trouble with occupying two of the three bathrooms. The toilets were separated somewhere else, therefore with luck, they will not even be noticed. The door slid close and was automatically locked when Wraith turned to the mess in the bathtub. 

“I have a major headache and you're half of it.”

“So a normal day then.” The Tracker chuckled and hissed against the pain. 

“I feel like it has merely begun.”

Another MEDKIT and a bottle of whiskey were placed on next to the tub, the residence had stashed away the glass bottle behind some towels for emergency use. It was meant for emergency use but it never stopped Caustic from slipping some into his mug after strolling in here every now and then. It was her favorite bathroom, she had seen him do it plenty of times. Early mornings or impossible nights where she brushed her teeth in peace there would be a tired face in the mirror. She would be ignored as she stared at The Scientist the whole time before he disappeared the same way he entered. The Hunter was stripped off the filth covered get-up, layer by layer was thrown into the open shower behind her. The glass door attached to it welcoming the dirt onto its walls.

Wraith had her eyes closed during the whole process, she had seen Their stupid uniform enough times both on and off. She could draw out a general blueprint of how it was put together if someone asked. Firstly she doused the clothes in the cubicle with water before blindly making her way back to douse The Hunter with the shower hose. She made sure the water was a fitting temperature, the first drizzled of water spraying onto the tiled floor before it was directed into the tub. Wraith heard it slide over naked skin as her boots squeaked in the puddle.

“You know you have to open your eyes after this.”

She grunted and sprayed The Tracker straight in the face to receive a clean chuckle this time, free of muffling filters behind masks and layers. 

“I know, shut up. I'll do it when I'm ready.”

“Any day now. Just a reminder that I have a special skill to stain bathtubs and making water pinkish in color in merely seconds.” 

“Oh my god!”

She patted the air to find a batch of hair, rubbing the water over Their head to make it soak in faster. Their hair was thick, strains comparable to a horse yet short in length. It was an inconvenience to have long hair when most of Their life was spent in a helmet. They recommended keeping it short for plenty of reasons, however, combat and utility were the most important points. Having someone grab a ponytail or louse locks mid-fight and tug you down to the ground was heart attack inducing. Wraith took the note of tying her hair-bun tighter together next time in fear of her scalp ripping off her skull. 

She kneeled onto the floor with upper thighs pressed against the bathtub as she peered her eyes open. An attempt was made to keep the head fixed low and on the most non-invasive spot possible. The Hunter had bullet entrances but no exits trailing Their limbs, one in the upper torso as well. The metal blocked most of the blood from pooling out but not enough. Wraith exhaled heavily and took a swing from the whiskey before handing it to The Tracker. 

“Please, for the sake of both of us.” 

They slowly accepted and carefully sipped two long gulps of the happy honey followed by drizzling some onto their wounds. It was a quick way to numb the pain, she did not blame Them. It sure smelled better than the reek of nature whipped into the air. The long telescope tweezer from the MEDKIT was soaked in rubbing alcohol and pressed into the largest wounds first. Slowly and steadily Wraith went cross-eyed trying to pull the bullets out of their nests. A shower of 22-millimeters had lodged themselves in awkward positions under the skin which had made it a difficult task. Wraith sighed once again and went back to the cabinets were a pair of hairdressing scissors hid and was snapped into two knives. Dunking them into the coldest water possible under the sink left a cleaner edge, perfect to enlargen the wounds so the tweezer would fit. 

Bloodhound sat corps-like, even during the extractions of the last metal piece. Not a noise was echoed and Wraith was glad. She had blood on her hands and a desire to scream until her head went light again. The whiskey teased her throbbing headache, easing the rubber band strapped around her brain. Any minor noise which was not her own breathing would make her kick a table over. The odd thing was her own breathing being the only sound she heard. 

“Hound?”

No response was the only thing needed for her to she cursed sharp enough to knock front teeth out the bilding. A revive-pen was hastily retrieved from the kit, the same they used in the Apex Games to revive a knocked-down teammate. The needle was exposed on the bottom as she took the lifeless neck in one hand, stabbing the pen into Their chest with the other. Wraith slammed the area over the heart the same way she would slam the back of her fist onto a table when she was impatient. How long The Hunter had been out?

The sound of an acute gasp had never been more satisfying as They jolted back to life, clutching the empty holes scattered around their naked body. Wraith threw a glare back to Their eyes frantically scan the room before They calmed down into a smile. 

“Hey, you finally looked at me.”

A harsh punch collided with Their upper arm, leaving yet another bruise to patch up. A large mechanical syringe-gun was pulled out from the MEDKIT to once again jab into the wounded body. A few seconds of painfully holding the syringe-trigger in place filled Their body with magic juice and surely patched everything up. The healing left light discolorations the shape of the holes across the skin. She never knew how this technology worked, only that it was nearly instant and that she had used it plenty of times on the field. It was something to trust.

The syringe powered down. Bloodhound was practically back in working order lying in the remains of Their blood. The push of a button on the wall closed the drain up and the tub was slowly being filled with soaking water. She did not forget the uniform, oh no. If Bloodhound showed up in anything but their signature suit during a game both of them could kiss their sponsors goodbye. Wraith removed her boots and emptied a bottle of shampoo over the uniform to step on under the running water. She danced on the fabric to the tune of folk music, imagining she was making grape wine in a barrel and wishing nothing but a pretzel and sleep when this was over. 

“Thank you.” 

She stopped and turned her head at the bathtub, the water had turned itself off when the rim was full. Bloodhound waved the steaming water over Their hand and ran the wrinkled fingers through Their hair. Slick and wet, hugging the top of the head. It was weird seeing Them like this again, just a gentle reminder that the big and scary wolf was also merely a human underneath. They bled, They became breathless and They took baths. 

“For what?”

“For everything.”

“Of course.” 

After she could barely make out any stains in the clothes she stepped onto the closest rug to dry her feet. 

“I’ll get you a spare change and your breathing mask. Just stay tight.” 

A gentle nod peeked over the water surface and she closed the door behind her. Down the hall shone a bathroom light over a person hugging their legs on the floor. Mirage quickly tilted his head and jumped to his feet. He frantically followed The Skirmisher while she made her way down the opposite direction. 

“Are They okay? Can I help in any way? Should we be leaving Them alone in the bath--”

He stopped when a hand lied flat in front of him, almost crashing into the palm as Wraith stopped outside a door. 

“Quiet. People are sleeping.”

“Oh.”

“Houndy is fine, not thanks to you it seems.”

She pulled out her MIST and began tapping the screen. Mirage crossed his arms with a huff. 

“What is that suppose to mean?”

“You were barely injured, walking almost perfectly which means They got hurt protecting you. Meaning you were practically useless in whatever you guys were caught up in.”

Wraith finally got access to the door, placing a hand on the chest of the pursuing man. 

“This is off limit.”

“I can make it better-- save the day and stuff! Just tell me what to do and I can do it. Anything.” He flexed his arms outside the room, still in his stained suit when Wraith threw a T-shirt and a pair of jeans over his head. 

“You can start with not smelling like a trash can.” A sharp pain made her halt and massaged her temples. “What are you still doing here, by the way?”

“I’m here to make sure Bloodhound is doing okay. You still haven't told me their condish-- how they are doing.”

“They are safe...” 

The extra clothes in her arms and the room she was in caught her attention. It was filled with equipment and tools, clothes and diagrams fixed on the walls with store-bought tape. Headshots of people The Hunter was targeting in the corner of the room and on Their desk lied an altar. Offerings to the heavens surrounded by unlit candles. She reached for the spare oxygen mask resting on the chair to stare deeply into the reflection of the eyes. She remembers this mask specifically, the thing that scared her when they first met. The thing which would soothe her to sleep during storm rising nights and hum the voices away. The filter would muffle childish stories of great warriors emerging from the earth, eons ago, to keep her safe. Just a few words which would calm her down in minutes. 

“Why are you really here, Mirage?” 

It was quiet behind her, the ceiling lamp bled into the dark corridor and drew an outline of The Trickster on the other wall. Wraith glanced over her shoulder to see a nervous man leaning against the door frame, rubbing circles into his upper arm. His gaze was fixed on the decorations. 

“I feel like I need to pay up, you know? An eye for an eye-- or… skin for skin. Cause my skin was saved, right? And I… can't shake this feeling... I don´t know... Whenever They look at me, like strangely long, like really, really long--, I feel like it's not to put a bullet in my head but… something else.”

“Like They are spellbound?” 

“Yeah! Hah, that. Did you know? We were seated next to each on the plane in my first game.”

“Oh yeah?” She said with a tilt.

“Yeah. I fell asleep-- I mean causally leaned over and bumped into Them, like: Hey, name’s Mirage.” He recreated the finger gun he claims he had used. 

“Uh huh. And then you just...hit it off?”

“They actually spoke back longer than anyone had done that day and…” Mirage drew a long sigh and adjusted his position against the frame. “Would you believe me if I said I saw this quiet farm life flash before my eyes. I was pulling a pie out of the oven as They came in with a batch of carrots or something. We were old and gray with a tiny monster running around.”

Wraith audibly snorted and wobbled onto her feet to push The Trickster aside, shaking her head at the man. She remembered that day. Wraith too had fallen asleep and awoken to The Tracker unfocused for most of the game. They were lost in Their thoughts with head in the clouds. She counted eight missed shotgun shells in a row at some point before the focus had returned. Mirage grasped her hand in a tight hold to catch her attention. 

“Please… It sounds crazy but I would do anything to help Them. Please....” 

She stared back into his eyes, dark brown with the reflection of the bedroom on the surface. His brows furrowed into this sharp glare which could pierce a hole in her head if he wanted to, right into the lingering pain growing worse with each head turn. A few blinks at the man reminded her of how heavy her head still was. Wraith swears she would never drink again. She retracted her hand and patted him on the shoulder before sliding away. 

“Go change.”

They reached the bathroom area together and Wraith tumbled over something, tripping over and falling towards the closed bathroom door. Mirage grasped after to catch her before managing to plant the face onto the floor. As she was lowered to a seating she could barely hear Mirage speak, the deafening echo of her own voice too loud in her head. It tightens the rubber band around her brain with each message. 

“You’re about to faint.”  
“Never drink again.”  
“Don’t hit your head.”  
“It wasn’t whiskey.” 

It wasn’t whiskey. 

After she had gotten used to the sudden ringing tune choaking her eardrums she saw Mirage panicking and frantically opening and closing his mouth. He hurriedly looked up and down the hallway with hands too afraid to touch her anywhere else than her arm. A warm liquid seeped into the top of Wraith’s lap and pooled on the floor between her legs. Adjusting her eyes made her discover the runny nosebleed staining her shirt.

It wasn’t whiskey.

The gag reflex gave in as Wraith escaped the hold around her. A projectile of abrupt burning acid was swallowed back down. She tripped and shuffled and crawled all at the same time towards the bathroom door. She screamed for the voice command to open between short breaths flooding and burning her windpipe. The Skirmisher tore and clawed at the control panel until the metal slid open and she tipped over to the other side. The wind was knocked out of her and the second flood came pooling over the bathroom tiles, finally allowed to leave her system. The room spun like an abused yo-yo, the G-force somehow too strong to perch herself onto the elbows. Between strains of hair sticking to the reeking sweat of her forehead, she could make out a dark head peeking over the bathtub, still soaking in the water and staring right at her. The familiarity of the darkness released her from the discomfort.


	3. Do you want it to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puke smell and vauge dating, idk i cant flirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This became much longer than i planned, nothing here was planned and i just wrote some fluffy shit i hope you like it

Calm ocean waves would beat up the shoreline, leaving abused lines in the sand where earth and water had kissed. The sun shone brightly in the sky but the heat was missing, no rays warming up The Skirmisher. She lay comfortably in the shadows of a cliffside with her head in a soft lap. Her hair louse and twiddled with, her scalp stroked and lightly scratched as humming filled her ears. The thought of her whereabouts never crossed the mind when she was wrapped in comfort. Other than the sand brushing against her back when she breathed, shaping around her, there were no other sensations. Nothing but a distant song dancing along to the beat of the waves, tipping the scale of consciousness. The words were not recognizable but Wraith did not mind, it calmed her instinctively like sighing with the wind against the face. She recalls to restless nights, Norse words that once wisped against her would sway the nightmares away. She recalls the used mattress barely disguising the back-breaking ground. The acid rain would hide any sobs perfectly. 

Wraith was unable to open her eyes as her head was stroked. The woman holding around her did not seem to mind being leaned into, her palms were just too large not to. The skin was warm and rough, years spent fiddling harsh objects but they calmed Wraith down. She almost fell back into the warming darkness. 

“Phantom?” 

The nickname was resonating. Something besides the hunter tag she had chosen for herself, something other than a dead name, something warm and only for her. It was smooth echoing off the lady’s tongue. Enough to lure Wraith’s eyes open to take in the silhouette hovering above her. The scenery was a breathtaking beach, painfully familiar where the blue sky flew above the contrasting shore. Adjusting her vision made the view fade into the common room. The beige sand had transformed into soft, red cushions behind the woman. Wraith managed to recognize the radiating face. 

“...‘nita.” 

“So you’re alive, as expected.” 

Bangalore combed the long, dark hair back to drape behind the ear as Wraith struggled to focus on the bright room. Her eyes refused to open fully to register if there were any spotlights accidentally mounted to the ceiling in the time she was out. 

“Where is Bloodhound…”

“He’s okay. Fine when you popped the door open so I just helped to fix--”

“--They.” Wraith interrupted and hastily pushed herself up. It was hard to see the room but her headache seemed to have vanished. The empty syringe needle on the coffee table gave her an idea where it might have gone. “Not he, they.”

“Ah...of course.” 

Bangalore threw an arm over the back of the couch, the towel resting around her neck was used to wipe the remaining sweat drops off her forehead. She was in full training attire, sports bra, tights and an exposed belly. Wraith made an attempt not to stare. 

“You really love Them, don’t you?”

“It would be a great netto loss if something were to happen to Them.” 

The comment earned a chuckle as Wraith glanced around the room. The sun seemed to be seeping through the window down the hall, indicating morning even though no other life was in view. 

“What are you doing up?” 

“I've been up since I found you choking in the kitchen earlier.”

“You have been training all this time?”

“It's only been a few hours, cupcake.”

Wraith wrapped a hand around The Soldier’s face and pressed her cheeks together. Soft lips would pout and clap like a dry fish in response. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Sweetheart.” 

“Try again.” 

“Sunshine.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Phantom.” 

Wraith finally released the Legend and gave her a few pats against the cheek. A small smile slithered its way to the surface, reflecting in The Soldier’s ocean deep eyes. She could see herself on the surface, tired and somehow more dead than usual with dark circles to match her flat hair.

“Thanks for the song, I really liked it.” 

“Oh, that. Just something I suddenly remembered. You were squirming and cold sweating so I just thought, why not?” 

“Where is it from?”

Bangalore glanced away into empty space for a moment and hummed, a finger placed on her chin by reflex. 

“My oldest brother used to sing it for the soldiers in the platoon which struggled with PTSD. I would accompany him as a guard.”

“So you just picked it up?”

“Once you’ve heard it a few times it’s gon’ stick.” The Soldier chuckled, her cheeks flushing just a bit fuller than moments earlier. “I can sing you another one if you have trouble sleeping.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Do you want it to be?” 

Wraith collected her hair to twiddle back into her signature bun, a sly smirk resting on her lips as two arms wrapped themselves around her neck from behind. Her head was pulled into a tight embrace as the sound of an air filter hummed in her ear. The affable embrace never left her side until the solid helmet received a few pats and pets. Wraith almost choked on something building up in her throat. Relief. 

“You’re alive.” Her voice cracked. She silently attempted to clear the airway. 

“Thanks to you,” Bloodhound whispered. 

“I poisoned you. The whiskey--”

“Not your fault. You had no way of knowing and we were just unlucky.” 

Unlucky. There it was again, They used the word often to the point where it has lost its original meaning. Wraith understood it as just something that merely happened, nothing anyone could have changed. Nothing anyone could have foreseen, where everything is already decided by the gods but she should have known. She should have seen it coming, she should have known Caustic had done something fishy, she should have tasted the drink better, she should have observed better, she should have known better. 

She should have been better. 

“Stop it. It’s not your fault. I’m fine, you're fine and we are home.”

Bloodhound reached a naked hand over to cover Wraith’s eyes and pressing the helmet just a bit tighter against her head. Whatever she was choking on had become awfully painful, clogging her windpipe and urging her over the edge where her eyes would swell and soak in salt. But they did not. Bloodhound leads her away from that dark place she would often fall into and showed her the washroom she once inhabited. 

The bathtub where she operated on Bloodhound was cleaned and masked with non-suspicion. No one would have known anything had happened in this room. Besides the faint smell of barf lingering, everything seemed as usual. 

“Where did it go?” Wraith inspected the floor in front of the door where she once had collapsed and was greeted with a hand to the face. Bloodhound’s hand smelled like lavender soap and faint stomach acid. 

Wraith promptly giggled and rejected the pursuing hand chasing her, forcing its smell up her nose again. Bloodhound didn’t mind shoving Their fingers up the nostrils if They had to. 

“Thank you, Houndy.”

“Don’t thank me.”

They pointed at something behind Wraith, out of view from the light to touch. Something shying away in the shadows. Mirage had his sleeves folded up, leaning against the hallway entrance in a manner where he would not take the spotlight like he usually does. Wraith faintly remembers being picked up at some point. They shared a smile before he placed a familiar whiskey bottle on the coffee table. Bangalore drew a long whistle and took the flask in hand.

“You actually drank this?” She asked quick and sniffed the open rim. “The old man puts his own stuff in here.”

“Ew, what the fuck. I thought it belonged to Makoa.” Wraith grimaces and shivers. She still felt the puke on her clothes and attempted to wipe it away. Soon she discovered the clothes she had picked out earlier was not on her body. 

“It used to, but he moved it since Caustic usually does his weird stuff in that washroom. It's the closest one to his sleeping quarter, you know?”

Wraith chose to forget she was sharing a washroom with Caustic of all people, he always managed to keep the room squeaky clean even if she dirties it, so there was never a problem. Bangalore stood up to dunk the bottle into the kitchen sink and wash up so there would not be any contamination and health risks. Whatever was in it nearly killed two people. Bloodhound handed an artifact over to Mirage before excusing themselves back to dry their uniform. The artifact looked like alien technology too advanced for Wraith to wrap her head around if someone attempted to explain. 

“Is that the thing you wanted to smuggle?” Wraith asked and stared at the light pulsing in Mirage’s hand.

“No, I wanted you to smuggle him in here so he could activate it. You know where to use it, Elliott.” 

Mirage urged the Ghost to follow him down the hallway again, towards her room which had its door open and lights unlit. Bloodhound was the only other person who obtained the passcode to her room, which gave off an eerie vibe when the Legend strolled on in as if he had been there before.

With the lights from the artifact guiding the way, Mirage sat onto the bed and asked for the door to be closed. She closed the door but remained by the exit just in case. The lime green light shaped his silhouette and disappeared when he pulled his MIST up to tap around on. He was an Apex player after all, of course, he would own one. 

“Are you ready for this?”

“Are you going to murder me?” She asked from her dark corner of the room. 

“I'm going to show you a good time.”

With a final push of a button, the artifact shifted color. The room exploded with bright light, almost blinding The Skirmisher before she squeezed her eyes tightly together and protected her head from danger. It tempted her to peer through the cracks when she heard the cawing of seagulls roaming the room. 

Wraith was greeted with the clear view of a painfully familiar beach hologrammed in 360-degrees across her room. It was nearly impossible to see where the hologram started and her room ended. With her mouth gaping and feet afraid to touch the floor, Wraith slowly made it over to Mirage who was sitting on an outdoor bed under a canopy. The touch of the fabric was exactly like her bed sheets as she sat down, however. 

“Just like the real thing, right? We had to steal some parts and trespass on private property to make some of the gears funk--funks-- work. But you know, worth it.”

“It looks like we’re outside. Is this…” 

“Like my holograms? Oh yeah, totally. My mom and I made things work but it's harder with scenery than objects. Not that I’m saying I’m an object, but like, real stuff. Physical things, they're kinda-- eh, easier to make touchable.”

“Touchable?”

Wraith observed Mirage lean down to a nearby bush and pick one of the flowers out, the artifact was unphased by this motion and held the illusion stable. He handed the flower over to her and although there was no physical sensation, she could feel a slight vibration against her skin. 

“Whaaat the fuuck.” She groaned. 

“I know right. It was Bloodhound’s idea, They designed the view and told me all about you and how much you used to love this place. You have a hard time remembering right? Yeah, same. Whenever there's a place I really, really need to remember my mom used to make much smaller hologram scenes for me.”

“Like this one?” Wraith pointed at the artifact.

“Similar, this one is much cooler and, uh, just cooler I guess.” 

The Trickster handed the artifact over. The vibration from the machine was similar to the flower and much cooler to the touch than what she had expected. 

“This one is much bigger. Like ten times or something. The once I had were like button sizes, tiny babies projecting postcard sized… postcards!”

Wraith burst out laughing at the hand motions he had made, over exaggerating every facial expression for the heck of it. Looking around she felt a warm familiarity, the color of the sand with the blue sky. She must have been here before, seen things before, faded like rewatching an old movie. Bits and pieces came back to her until she stopped to stare at the horizon. Where the water met the sky was too straight for her liking.

“What's wrong?” Mirage tilted his head as Wraith stood up to peer over the illusion.

“Something is missing…”

Dropping the flower made it decent carefully to the ground and flicker away, it respawned back onto its bush-like resetting a video game. With her free hand, she raised it tall with a thumb over a straightened arm. Her thumb covered a specific spot on the water surface, moving it back and forth to make sure her eyes were not merely playing tricks on her. 

“Well, this is the intel I got to feed the holo-caster. Maybe the data got lost somewhere?”

“Do you know where this is?” Wraith quickly turned back to look at the Illusionist where he simply shrugged. 

“Only Hound knows, They drew it.” He watched her sappily slug herself back onto the mattress in defeat and placed a finger on his chin. “We can ask Them and go visit you know? If you tell me every wrong detail I might be able to click it incorrectly.” 

Wraith turned a head lazily and examined the features of his face. For an idiot… he could do a lot of smart things she was unaware of. The same feeling of discovery reminded her of the old days before she started to play in the Apex games with her partner. 

“I would like that.”

\--- 

In the next season of the Apex games, Wraith was sitting calmly with her new squad. Her, Bloodhound and Mirage in the middle. They were excitedly discussing tech in a language which did not phase the Ghost. She enjoyed the flight with her belts tightly strapped around her. They felt comfortable and gave her the confidence to murder once again. 

“The ladies look cute, don't they?” Bangalore asked, gesturing to Wraith’s squad. She was merely a legs length away, straight across The Skirmisher. 

“They do, shoot them and I’ll kill you.” 

“I’d like to see you try, Phantom.”

There it was again, her name on Anita’s lips-. The feeling of lying in her lap again made The Phantom remember she had forgotten to breathe at some point. 

“Do you remember that morning, last season? What happened to my clothes?”

“I changed them, They asked me to. It was that or cleaning up puke and I’m not a big puke fan.”  
Wraith chuckled and slid over to kick The legend across the leg, her toes barely gracing The soldier. 

“Does the lullaby offer still stand, by the way?” 

“It does, why?” 

Wraith smiled from ear to ear and straightened her back against the seat.

“Do you want to have a sleepover after this?” 

Bangalore raised a brow and crossed her arms, the belt holding her in place “Is that an invitation, Phantom?”

“Do you want it to be?”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration from another Apex work "Petrichor" by @enmayri here on AO3
> 
> Go read it its SUPER good and im still waiting in anticipation


End file.
